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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031549">Mother, Should I Trust The Government?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/armageddonouttahere/pseuds/armageddonouttahere'>armageddonouttahere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(emotional trauma for both the characters and the author), Angst, As it should be, Blood and Injury, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon Trans Character, Emotional Trauma, Environmental Destruction, Everyone Is Gay, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, I wrote this for my english class, Injury Due To Drug Use, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Mild Language, Not A Single Person In This Narrative Is CisHet, Nuclear Destruction, Physical Trauma, Recreational Drug Use, Sex workers, Underage Drug Use, What the Hell, and decided to post it here, i guess, oh yeah and it's angsty, so of course they all have trauma, this is a good first fanfic for this site</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:35:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/armageddonouttahere/pseuds/armageddonouttahere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you ever seen the ground on a scorching hot day, where, if you focus your eyes just right, close to the grey pavement heating your feet, the air seems to move? In the Zones outside Battery City, the sky constantly yellow-brown from the radiation, everywhere you turn the air wiggles around you like you’re trapped in a fun-house mirror."</p><p>__</p><p>A group of four young, troubled killjoys face the biggest challenge of their life, butting heads with one another along the way. Will their companionship be strong enough to keep them together? Or will a lack of experience and an overwhelming force drive them apart permanently?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mother, Should I Trust The Government?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilted_roses02/gifts">Wilted_roses02</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>While writing this I actually made a spotify playlist for inspiration, which you can listen to here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iWQNi1aBuDFXRTrRGzfqG?si=5Z_5axZuTm2ruiDin7AqjA</p><p>I also made a Glossary for all the slang terms I found or just made up, which you can access at the end of the fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Have you ever seen the ground on a scorching hot day, where, if you focus your eyes just right, close to the grey pavement heating your feet, the air seems to move? In the Zones outside Battery City, the sky constantly yellow-brown from the radiation, everywhere you turn the air wiggles around you like you’re trapped in a fun-house mirror. Out in the expanse of the desert, a tired-looking group is resting in the sparse shade next to a decrepit building that looks like it had seen better days, covered in graffiti and posters from the past. A beat-up portable boom box is emitting white static, perched on a red crate. The word “BOOM” surrounded by a comic-book-like bubble is scribbled on the front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely visible under the glare of the alarm clock radiation, two figures are standing on a rise in the hard-packed sand, a row of soda cans balancing on a box beyond them in the middle distance. The shorter one raises a gun, a neon dot of colour from where the others are sitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Focus on everything you’re feeling inside you.” The taller one murmurs, pressing a thin hand to the other’s chest, adjusting the way his hand is situated in its hold on the gun, which looks like something you’d find when playing laser tag.“You have to feel the currents of radiation and heat vibrating around you, through you. You have to focus your eyes on the energy. Projecting that forward, you’ll never miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy, a picture of rough living despite his young age, tightens his grip on the blaster to prevent his hands from shaking. The other takes a step back as he prepares to shoot. A few moments pass and then the boy is stumbling back from the recoil as it fires, shooting a bright bolt of energy and hitting the crate, leaving a smouldering hole through the very centre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was wonderful!” The taller one exclaims in surprise, the wry smile on their face accentuating the thin white scar on their lip and growing wider as the boy turns to look at him in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t spit trojan horses at me, Sodapop. I missed.” The boy grumbled, brushing dust off his once-white shirt, curly green-and-black hair drooping in both defeat and the heat of the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the shade of the old shed, the radio begins to squeak out an unintelligible murmuring, replacing the static that preceded it. A pale hand reaches up from its resting place in an old lawn chair and turns the volume knob up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look alive, sunshine. I’m Dr Death-Defying revving up your engines this scorching hot morning. It’s almost 109 in the clouds today, and that big ball of radiation in the sky is just waiting to kiss you goodbye. A little birdie tells me that a jitterbug went off late last night on the outskirts of Batt City, and the bodies keep on popping.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the people in the group sits up from their lounging position in the shade, the sun slicing their face and revealing a shock of close-cut, bright pink hair, and brown skin broken up by pale white blotches. “Hey!” They shout, beckoning at the two out in the sun to come over. “Dr D’s on now!” The importance of this bit of illegal news shows as they almost trip over their feet in their haste to reach the others. Once they’re all situated, the pink-haired person begins to speak again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ‘eard about tha’ jitterbug. Cyber told me ‘bout it at last night’s cordial.” They say, disgust edging their voice. The rest of the group’s lazy demeanour vanishes almost completely, eyes trained on the speaker’s patchwork face. Knowledge and gossip come out of the same jar, and anything spoken through a drunken haze at a cordial is as good as law. Not that there are many laws out in the Zones. That’s the whole point.  “Apparently they was chasin’ after their new puppy, you know, Snake Shot? Ran into a cavalry of Draculoids just leaving Batt City. Became a red dawn before you could say ‘ritalin rat’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the group took in this new information buzzing with a sullen menace, Dr Death-Defying still chattering in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A memorial for the fallen will be held at sundown at the Mailbox Shrine in Zone Four. So get your mask on, and keep your boots tight.” The man said through the speaker, his words charged with the cautionary tales of past generations. “Grab your friends, and hold them close, before the blackout gas hits you faster than Medusa’s motorbike! A shiny tidbit for you today: Lady Green’s offering a bit of dupe-goop from the witch’s gardens out in Zone 3, so if you wanna pop over there before you get beat by the heat, now’s the time to do it. Nothing happy about it, tumbleweeds, but our two minutes of morning static is almost up. This is Dr Death-Defying, signing off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’you know how many got ghosted?” said Sodapop while the girl that turned up the radio kicked out a leg and brought up a cloud of dust as her platform heel scuffled against the dry ground. A round of coughing came up as the dust drifted into the boy, who was sprawled on a thin blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy Helium Wars, Batman!” he croaked once he could breathe right again. “Leave killing me to the fuckin’ bacon, a’ight, Queen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen, as she was addressed, gave a low, strangely electronic chuckle, before returning her attention to their new source of information. Sodapop smiled, star and stripe patters mixing as they crossed their long, gangly legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost all of ‘em, Cyber said,” answered the pink-haired one. “‘E said the new recruit stood up one morning an’ ran off like a shot, grabbin’ a bike and burning rubber towards Batt City. ‘Gone loony tune, ran like a bat outta hell’, ‘e said. An’ the rest of ‘em ran after him, thinkin’ somethin’ was up, and it was. They didn’t grab they blasters or nothin’. Crashed right into the calvary of Dracs. It was a bloodbath.” They finished relaying the information with a scowl and glared moodily at the ground as if it had said something awful about their mama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone in the desert hated Draculoids, a constant, relentless policing force solely dedicated to capturing rebels and keeping order in Battery City. They wore identical white masks and white suits. Once you put on a Draculoid mask your whole worldview was changed, literally. The Director designed them herself- she could see everything the Draculoids were doing, and the computer programming on the inside of the mask took a nearly permanent hold on the Draculoid that wore them. They wouldn’t listen to reason or pleading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Cruzada. Way to make the rest of this day a giant sand-crack.” groaned Queen as she pushed herself out of the beaten up lounge chair and half-heartedly tried to brush off the dust that got on everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe y’all </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel soggy, an’ not be such a halo head all the time,” Cruzada exclaimed indignantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” interjected the girl, her voice a buzzing, programmed sound. Her shoulders drew back as she shifted ever so slightly into a fighting stance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen, the most hot-headed of the bunch, was arguably the most intimidating in terms of physical appearance. A bright shock of synthetic, wig-like red hair adorned a very pale face. A pair of white contacts made her eyes look psychotic and small. A black outfit, almost like a leotard, seemed grafted to her glossy, plastic-looking skin. A thin box, with patches of rust and a few frayed wires sticking out, was embedded in the centre of her back, between the shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy lounging on the ground shot a look at Sodapop, who merely leaned back in their chair, a faint smile twitching at their lips. Cruzada stared at Queen for a few moments, tension building the longer nothing happened, before shrugging and leaning back against the wall of the building. “A’ight, Queen, I see you. ‘S too hot a day to be arguin’ like this. All I’m sayin’ is that it ain’t right. Seems chilly, tha’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tightness dripped out of Queen’s shoulders and she nodded before wandering off to a plastic cooler, popping the lid, and pulling out a green soda. “DEAD PEGASUS STICKY SAP” the cylinder read in bright, annoying letters. “So what are we gonna do today?” She pondered vaguely, licking the condensation that beaded down the side of her soda. “There’s bound to be scores of people at the witch’s gardens by noon. It’ll turn into a pangea for sure. An’ I don’t mind goin’ I just don’t want to bump into somebody I got a bansky on and have to cough up the last of my carbons.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy snorted, tipping his head back to squint at the sun. “You owe everyone a beer, Queen.” He said. “Like you’d ever actually pay anyone back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come off it, Acid. You’re no better than I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sodapop plopped themselves in Queen’s lawn chair and promptly turned upside down, legs kicking back and forth as their face turned redder and redder. “So is that what we’re doing?” They say, spreading out his arms and legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Let me grab Faust and we’ll jump on Route Guano.” The boy, Acid, said. He dashed inside the building and came out moments later with a bag slung around his shoulder, a decorated motorcycle helmet in his hands and a ray gun strapped to his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re looking shiny. Where's the little guy?” Queen asks, straddling a beat-up, red motorcycle along with the others. Acid holds up his bag and the head of a tiny snake pops out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s tired.” Acid says as he pops his helmet on, flipping up the visor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to hit the red line?” Sodapop shouts, revving up their engine and slapping the helmet of Cruzada, who’s sitting in Sodapop’s sidecar, legs thrown over the top.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They speed off, large clouds of dust circling towards the sky as they pick up speed in the large, hot desert. After a few minutes, they turn onto a cracked highway, drifts of sand covering the road in patches. They speed past a bent signpost littered with holes, leaving gaping spaces in the text. It reads, “PROP  TY OF BETT R LIVING I DUS RIES. ZONE 3 WIL B  RECON TRUCT D SOON. HAV YOU SMIL D TO AY?”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the group passes train station avenue, glancing over a group of scrappy looking kids with their thumbs out, an abandoned gas station, and a large patch of scraggly plants, they pull off the road and speed towards a series of large greenhouses. Not actual greenhouses. There aren’t enough supplies in the desert for that. Lady Green, an old rose dust, lives in Zone 3 and takes care of the sanctuary. The group dismounts and are immediately surrounded by sand pups, kids who were born in the desert, tugging at their ray guns, asking to sit in the sidecar and wear their weathered helmets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sodapop barely holds out for five minutes before letting a kid scrabble his way onto their shoulders, and they ran off with a group of pups to go wind chasing, dashing after miniature tornadoes of leaves. Queen laughs at their antics, rolling her eyes before she and Cruzada make their way over to the shade of Lady Green’s shed/living quarters and sink to the ground. Too much sun isn’t good for Cruzada’s skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid had barely dismounted before he was dashing into Lady Green’s house. He was good friends with her, understood in a way the others would never be able to. She knew things about Acid he would never tell Cruzada, Queen, or even Sodapop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hullo, ma’am.” Acid says, pushing the beaded curtain out of his eyes as he walked through the doorway. Lady Green looks at him from between her legs, her limbs tangled into a knot as she rests her hand on a geometrically patterned rug. She was doing some old-fashioned exercise, called it Yoh-Ga, or something like that. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that, Youngster?” She spoke as if she had lived for a thousand years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least once more, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I ever was as polite as you when I was your age I think I woulda ghosted myself. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to disrespect your elders?” Acid rolled his eyes at that, plopping himself on a tiny ottoman. “Doesn’t matter," She continued. "How’re things going with target practice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shitty. Sodapop says I’m doing well but I have yet to hit a can. They’re totally lying to me. They know I’m never gonna be good at shooting… I’m as good as dead if I can’t even hit a Drac.” The petulant boy leaned backwards, resting his head on the dusty ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even come in here if you’re just going to whine, Youngster. We don’t complain in this house, we look for answers to our problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid looked up to the tin roof, parts missing and plants hanging over most of the ceiling. “Are you sure this is a house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s that sass I’m looking for! You know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shriek rang out as Cruzada and Queen tried to run through the door at the same time, tripping over each other. Cruzada got to their feet first, raygun drawn, eyes wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re… they’re here. Mom and Dad, they’re coming home. They’re almost past Zone 2 right now.” Having finished relaying the news, Cruzada dashed out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Houston, we’ve got company,” Queen said, pulling her shotgun from over her shoulder and loading it. “C’mon, Acid, we’ve got to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid began to leave, before looking back fearfully at Lady Green, who seemed unconcerned. She sighed before untangling herself, rummaging through a little drawer, and pulling out a little jade crystal tied to a rope. A necklace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get a move on, kid.” She said, shoving it into his hand. “You’re gonna be fine. Get your mask on, get your ray gun ready. You’ll be able to shoot when you believe you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid nodded, slinging the necklace around his face and running out towards the others, who were busy loading guns and putting on masks. He pulled his mask from his back pock, one in the shape of a little green alien.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peaceful scene of the gardens had all but disappeared during Acid’s time in the shed. A foreboding cloud of dust on the horizon struck fear into the hearts of all the killjoys in the desert. The children Sodapop had just been playing with were now scrambling into cars, the backs of motorcycles- any sort of transportation to get them away from the cavalry coming. A low cloud of humidity hung in the air, a rare shower curtain covering the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re coming straight for us. We can’t let them harm the gardens, so we’re going to hit the red line down Route Guano and get past the picket fence if we can.” Sodapop said, affixing goggles to their face and straddling his bike. “Acid, how’re you feeling? You’ve got floral eyes, after all. This is your first real clap with exterminators.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got twisting cherry pits in my stomach, man.” Acid said, fear making his voice quaver. He looked at the cloud of dust approaching. He got on his bike and they were riding off, faster than the groups of rebels getting out of the witch’s gardens. No one was safe when the cavalry came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They burned rubber down the road, the first drops of rain hitting their backs. It was rare that rain ever came in the desert, and the special moment was lost on the group as they sped past the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zooming past Zone 3, the Draculoids began to gain on them, done fooling around. Their various cars and bikes sped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they get any closer they’re gonna start shooting!” Sodapop shouted, pulling down the handkerchief covering their mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s pull off and get down! Put your mask back on, idiot!” Queen snarled, sparks flying off her, literally. She pulled off the road, shooting down the desert. The rest followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ran behind an outcropping of rocks and got off their bikes. Queen pulled her shotgun out and cocked it, face covered with a Betty Boop mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cruzada patted Acid on the back, giving him a rare smile before wordlessly handing him a pair of dog tags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rock and roll, buckeroo!” Sodapop shouted dashing out from behind the rocks, gun drawn and smile bright. The rest followed after them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything suddenly seemed too much: the remaining sun was too bright, the wind was too dry, the sand too hot. The ground underneath Acid’s feet seemed to swim under his eyes as he fumbled for his blaster. He fell into place next to the others, standing in line and facing the Draculoids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven pristine white suits, seven pristine white Drac masks. Seven white rayguns. Seven little ducks, all in a row. They were outnumbered. They were waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen was the one in danger the most out of the rest. She was a mistake by design, in The Director’s eyes at least, who saw fornication as a messy experience, unfit for a Better Life. She was a mistake by choice, finding a way to survive in the desert against her very programming and life force. She was the one, out of all of them, with the largest bounty on her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one moved a muscle. Out of the corner of his eye, Acid saw a whisp of blonde float in the air as Sodapop blew out a long, measured breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time slowed. Acid caught the faint scent of cactus flowers underneath the ever-pungent smell of radiated air. A drop of rain splattered on the back of his neck. A lone bird whistled. The thin clouds covered the ever-present sun. There was a scrape of someone’s foot against the ground, scattering rocks, and then Queen’s sawed-off shotgun fired straight for the middle of the line of Dracs, a lethal bowling ball hurtling towards bleached white pins.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid stumbled backwards, holding up his blaster as the Draculoids scattered, taking cover behind their car, working in practiced, mechanical movements. Sodapop all but leaped into them, guns blazing. Acid fought off a rogue Draculoid with a punch to the face, balking when Cruzada finished it off with a good swing of their bat. He could see the deflation of the mask as the Draculoid’s head caved in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, darlin’, time’s a’wastin’,” Cruzada said from underneath their helmet. Acid grunted before pushing himself forward to help Queen out. Three Dracs on her, and she was doing all she could with the knife she used for close-range fighting. Acid jumped on the one behind her, struggling to keep the monster in a choke hold. He could feel its pulse. This was a person. He could feel <em>their</em> pulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not anymore. Acid dropped to his knees as the body became dead weight, the Drac’s head falling into his lap in an almost innocent position. With shaking hands Acid reached to take off the Drac’s mask. He should see the face of the first life he had taken. Person. His fingers crept underneath the bottom of the mask and then the world moved sideways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid’s head hit the ground, a groan coming out involuntarily from inside his throat. The desert moved in and out of focus, the bright colours that were so important to him suddenly too much for him to deal with. He closed his eyes but his vision still swam like an old TV that couldn’t pick up a signal. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, Acid tried to stand and hold his gun away from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took in the scene as best he could. Queen and Cruzada were busy fighting two of the Dracs, which meant… Sodapop. Acid almost fell over from the weight of his head as he tried to turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sodapop was holding off three Draculoids, doing their best to survive but the Dracs were outnumbering them, and were much stronger. They were shouting something at Acid as a Draculoid wrenched their blaster out of their hand, the other one grabbing their legs, trying to knock them off their feet. Acid couldn’t really understand what Sodapop was trying to say, so he stepped closer, almost in a trance. Sodapop reached out to Acid and he ran towards them, air swimming as he stumbled. A world of sound came rushing back into Acid’s head and he felt overwhelmed in every way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Acid! ACID! You’ve gotta take me, please, please, don’t let them, I can’t be- Acid please, please, you gotta do it! Take your blaster just like we practiced!” Sodapop was shouting, pleading. Sodapop was being dragged away and the world tunnelled. Acid looked from Sodapop to the blaster in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Sodapop had made that gun together, a year after Acid had run away from Battery City. They became close right away. Well, almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mitchel had been holing out in an abandoned diner for a month, digging around for scraps, stealing from other killjoys, whatever he could get his hands on. One day, he had grabbed a little baggie, a strange light brown powder, almost ground into the dirt after a rave, without thinking what was in it. He hadn’t eaten for a couple days and didn’t even hesitate for a second before pouring it down his throat right in front of his new home. He had been hoping for a sugar of sorts. That was not what it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to three days later, covered in sweat and smelling like piss. There was a gross plant stuffed into his mouth and a cool rag on his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you feelin’, ritalin rat?” A voice asked nonchalantly from a corner in the dimly lit room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’b nob a widalin wad,” was the muffled reply, followed by a wet spitting noise. “I’m not a ritalin rat. I don’t go around doing acid left and right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could tell. You barely got that thing down your throat before you collapsed in the dirt. A real ritalin rat would be able to recognize a baggie of Ph Heights if they saw one.” The figure moved forward. They had a bright shock of bleached blonde hair, grey eyes, and a thin scar on their lip. They were much older than Mitchel. “What’s your name, Acid Boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Acid. Acid Battery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The person laughed good and hard, hand slapping on their chest and everything. They shook their head. “Alright, Acid, nice to meet you. My name’s Sodapop. Welcome to the desert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Welcome to the desert. Acid raised the gun and pointed it loosely in the direction it needed to go. He unfocused his eyes and the atmosphere trembled with the force of electricity, radiation, and emotion. It pulsed like a really good bass beat- or a heartbeat. Acid could see a glow around Sodapop and his gun rightened all on its own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief shown in Sodapop’s eyes. ‘Look alive, Acid Boy,’ they mouthed right before Acid pulled the trigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fire consumed Acid’s mind. He barely saw the body slump to the ground before he was reloading his gun and shooting one of the Dracs in the forehead, red spilling out from behind the white and black mask. What's black and white and red all over? A dead monster. He ran forward, grabbing the jaw of the second monster and pulling to the right as far as he could. The loud snap felt good under his hands. The third monster began to stumble backwards, but that didn’t matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid waited until he was a good distance away before grabbing Sodapop’s gun and firing it again and again into the Draculoid’s back. That felt good too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around, the sun in his eyes, and looked at the bodies of his friends. He drew his eyes up, staring down the severely injured monsters. One was cluching its arm, which looked to be hanging from a thread. That would have been Queen, probably. Acid picked up Cruzada’s bat, wiping the blood off the wood before running towards the monsters and putting it to good use. Getting it messy all over again. He beat until there was nothing left to beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky opened, and the floods rushed down. Acid looked to the heavens for a brief moment before dropping the bat. He ripped off Queen’s favourite bracelet, Sodapop’s ring. He had Cruzada’s dog tags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his bag from his bike and got in the Drac’s car and drove away, towards the witch’s gardens, only to be welcomed by flames. Better Living Industries body bags covered the ground. It was a distraction. A smaller cavalry to be the bait, leaving way for a larger group to destroy the gardens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Acid swung the car around and burnt rubber down Route Guano, going as far as he could before his old radiation injuries started acting up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you do after that?” The boy asked… a picture of rough living despite his young age... What was his name? Doesn’t matter. All these kids are the same. Same clothes, same hair, same bright confidence and energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tired man took a long swig from his glass, a ring flashing in the dim light of candles. An old snake curled its way around his shoulders, as if in sympathy. He looked at the ground, black-and-gray hair drooping down into his face, and sighed like he had a million regrets in the world. <em>What did he do after that?</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was as good as dead. So I died.”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So how was it? Thanks so much for reading! This is my first time publishing a work on AO3, and I'm a tad bit nervous about the outcome, so any comments or kudos will be very much appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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